


Love is all that I have, so let me love who I want

by sweetstacks



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: M/M, Some Time During S1, but time is a lie, lance and shiro plays video games
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-22
Updated: 2019-03-22
Packaged: 2019-11-27 12:32:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,003
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18194642
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sweetstacks/pseuds/sweetstacks
Summary: After Shiro insists the paladins take a few days off to let their bodies rest and minds recover, he ends up spending a lot of time with Lance after sustaining a training injury.But he isn't sure if it's just out of obligation. It has to be, right? Of course.





	Love is all that I have, so let me love who I want

The first time, it’s a quiet moment in between training sessions that Lance and Shiro find themselves alone together. They’ve all been going hard—too hard, Shiro says, and even Allura agrees—and so it had been unanimously decided that they need a few days to just decompress, relax. 

“Even athletes take the time to let their bodies rest. After an intense period of working hard, some usually take up to a week off,” Shiro had said. Allura opened her mouth, and Shiro held up a hand. “But, we won’t take that long. I think we can all agree on that. Four days, everyone.”

Even now, Shiro isn’t sure if they had agreed. He doesn’t blame them. They’d gone from cadets to paladins and defenders of the universe overnight. They haven’t had to fight for their lives every day, and Shiro’s glad for that. He wouldn’t wish what he’s been through on anyone.

There’s a part of him, a huge part, that regrets how things have gone. If it weren’t for him, they wouldn’t be in this situation. He’d been the catalyst for turning their lives upside down. It’s no wonder he stays awake at night sometimes, staring up at the ceiling, wondering if they resent him. He hopes they don’t, but he wouldn’t blame them if they did. He might be their leader, but they’re still kids. Still young. Too young, really, to be full-fledged soldiers. They have families, friends, and dreams that don’t involve fighting in a war they were never meant to be part of.

Shiro can’t shut his brain off. It’s supposed to be a time to relax, but he finds his muscles pulled tight like a rubber band ready to snap. He’s supposed to be their cool, collected leader, the decisive head of Voltron, and often he is. But more and more, he finds himself just barely holding it together.

He thinks they would be disappointed, if they knew.

So he makes his way to the training deck on the morning of their first day off. He isn’t wearing his armor; all he wants is to beat his feelings to a pulp. The gladiator’s a good way to do that. He doesn’t crank the intensity up all the way, as much as he wants to; he doesn’t want to end up in a healing pod when they’re all supposed to be resting. 

“Training level three,” he murmurs. It’s a decent enough level to start out. They begin. Shiro, for someone so big, is fast. He’s had to learn to be light and quick on his feet; he knows offense isn’t always the answer. He ducks, weaves, falls into a roll and back onto his feet. He doesn’t use his hand; it’d cut through the machine like a hot knife through butter. Breaking the training toys is a surefire way to tip off the others about what he’s doing. 

He isn’t in the mood for a lecture.

It goes that way, for a while. Shiro steadily turns up the intensity. For a while, he does well enough. The Galra tech arm is pretty incredible: sturdy, hard-hitting, and even though he can feel some of what connects with the arm, it’s mostly muted. Really, he does well to keep his head in the game. It’s easy to get lost in the routine.

Unfortunately, that’s where he slips up. Shiro gets too far into his own head; he can’t exactly say what he’s thinking about when the thing’s hand slams hard into his shoulder, his stomach. Shiro goes flying, and as he hits the ground, he can only think that maybe it wasn’t a great idea to crank up the intensity. He has just enough breath to call off the sequence, and the dummy falls to the ground. Wheezing, Shiro picks himself up. His shoulder is painfully tender. He thinks there might be a bruise forming there, and it’s not even nine in the morning yet.

“Wonderful,” Shiro murmurs, bringing his metal hand up to the spot. A breath hisses through his teeth, and he adds it to the ever-growing list of stupid injuries he’s sustained. He fiercely hopes no one is up yet, because he needs to ice this quickly to tamp down the swelling. Hunk’s probably asleep; Pidge is likely knocking out about now; Keith might be awake, but not out of bed; Coran and Allura might be discussing strategy; and Lance…

As he enters the kitchen, Shiro realizes he isn’t the only one awake. He freezes, and Lance stares at him with wide eyes. Shiro figures he knows why: He looks like a wreck, hair a mess, dark circles under his eyes, a giant bruise forming on his shoulder. He kind of regrets the tanktop now. Actually, he regrets a lot of things.

(Lance misses his family and his home, and it’s all your fault.)

“Uh,” Lance finally says after a long, awkward stretch of moments. “Sooooo… coffee?”

Shiro has never been more glad for Lance. He knows Lance wants to ask. He knows Lance is wondering why he’s up so early, why he’s been obviously up and about and training when the relaxation period had been Shiro’s suggestion. He knows these questions are burning Lance up from the inside, but he manages, for once, to stay cool.

“Yeah,” Shiro finally replies. “Coffee would be great.”

“Lemme guess… black?” Lance grins. Shiro rolls his eyes. “Okay, okay, that was bad. But, seriously, how do you take it?”

“Plenty of cream and sugar. But since we don’t exactly have those, I’ll just settle for the alien sugar.”

“Oho,” Lance says, with a broader grin. “I had no idea you had a sweet tooth.”

Shiro chuckles. “There’s a lot you don’t know about me.”

“Yeah.” Lance’s expression falls for a second before he picks it back up. Shiro notices immediately. “But, you know, I’d like to know more about you,” Lance says as he pours the coffee and adds liberal amounts of what might as well be called sugar. It strangely turns the coffee from black to a pink-ish color. The first time Shiro had tried it, he’d been weirded out. But now, it’s just something he accepts. “Here you go.”

Shiro blinks as he takes the coffee. He’s still caught by what Lance had said before. I’d like to know more about you. Shiro figures Lance is just being nice for some reason; despite how he acts, Shiro thinks he values teamwork underneath all the showing off and preening he does. Absentmindedly, he sips at his coffee.

“You… really would?”

“Huh?” Lance raises his eyebrows as he swallows a mouthful of coffee.

“You want to get to know me?”

Lance shifts from one foot to the other. He feels awkward; maybe he thought Shiro would just forget about it, or he wouldn’t take it seriously. Shiro thinks he even sees a hint of color to his cheeks, but he tries not to assume.

“Well, yeah,” he finally says, eyes slipping to the bruise on Shiro’s shoulder. He frowns. “Alright, we need to ice that.” He puts his cup down and goes to the cooler. Before he opens it up, he manages to scrounge up a cloth. Shiro notices how clever Lance’s hands are. He wonders about Lance’s life before all of this. “Here we go,” he says, approaching Shiro with the makeshift ice pack. For a moment, Shiro thinks he moves to place the thing against the bruise, but he pulls back and hands it over instead.

Shiro sighs the moment the ice touches his skin. Lance clears his throat, and he goes back to his coffee. It helps soothe not only the pain, but his thoughts.

“Thanks,” Shiro says, and he’s infinitely grateful. “So… you want to get to know me.”

Lance sighs and tips his head back. “Man, you’re pretty stubborn.”

Shiro snorts. “Look at that. You learned something new today.”

Lance huffs and looks back at Shiro. “It’s not really learning if it’s you.” 

It makes no sense, but Shiro rolls with it. He chuckles. “If it’s me?”

“I mean.” He rubs the back of his neck. “Well… we’re supposed to be teammates, right? Ssssoooo…”

Shiro laughs. “I guess I understand.” He wonders what, exactly, is going through Lance’s mind. He seems less confident than usual, more unsure of himself. It’s a side of Lance he’s never really seen before.

He decides he likes it.

“So.” Shiro watches as Lance looks at him. “What did you have in mind?”

\-----

What they end up doing is this: Lance manages, somehow, to figure out a way to access video games through the castle’s systems. Alien internet, Shiro thinks, who knew? It’s been a long, long time since he’s played any sort of game, and as they set things up (it’s kind of awkward, and they have to sit close together because they can only use one keyboard), Shiro tells Lance as much.

Lance’s entire face lights up. “You’ve played video games?”

Shiro rolls his eyes. “I was a kid once, you know.”

“Imagine that. Baby Shiro.” Shiro groans, and Lance lets out a laugh. It draws a smile from Shiro; Lance has a nice laugh, the kind that warms him from the inside. 

(He hasn’t felt that in a long time, either.)

“Anyway,” Lance continues as he nudges Shiro’s side. “I promise I’ll go easy on you,” he says, as he pulls up what is obviously the alien equivalent of Mario Kart.

Shiro raises his eyebrows. “Bold of you to assume you need to. I am the best pilot in the Garrison, you know.” He pauses. “Well. Aside from Keith.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Lance says, hunching over the keyboard. Shiro chuckles, and he places his fingers on the directional keys. “Alright. You ready?”

“More than ready, cadet,” Shiro says, and he swears Lance’s ears turn pink.

He tries not to read too much into it as he turns his attention to the screen. 

As expected, Shiro totally trounces Lance. Not once, not twice, but five times before Lance grumbles and insists he’s only going easy, that this time, he’ll beat Shiro into the ground. Shiro laughs (“Sure, I believe you”) and Lance lets out a frustrated noise.

Lance does not, in fact, beat Shiro into the ground. 

“How are you so good?!” Lance exclaims as he throws his hands up. It’s the twenty-second race, and Shiro hasn’t let up. Lance had insisted Shiro not take it easy on him, and Shiro had obliged him. “You haven’t played video games in, like, forever!”

“I guess some things never leave you,” Shiro says with a grin as he sits back. Lance huffs and crosses his arms, and Shiro thinks it’s pretty adorable, the way Lance is pouting. 

… Ah. There’s a voice in the back of Shiro’s mind that tells him, This is dangerous. Then again… Shiro’s always treaded that fine line between safety and danger. 

“… Seriously, though,” Shiro says. Lance looks at him, curious. “Thanks for spending time with me. This was fun. The most fun I’ve had in a while, actually.”

Lance seems almost… embarrassed? He clears his throat and looks back at the screen. “You don’t have to thank me, Shiro. It was fun for me, too.”

Shiro laughs, soft and affectionate. “Even though I beat you twenty-two times?”

Lance looks at him with something that’s far too soft to be a glare—even if it’s obvious he’s trying. “Yeah.” The expression melts away to an easy, genuine smile. “But don’t worry. I’ll get you next time.”

\-----

Next time happens to be a day later. Lance and Shiro meet in the kitchen at nine in the morning, and they have cups of alien coffee. Shiro wonders why Lance is up so early. He’s usually not—usually, he’s asleep (his beauty sleep, he calls it) or neck-deep in his beauty rituals. Hell, he’s not even dressed in his robe and lion slippers. He’s not wearing his jacket, but instead, he’s wearing a tank top and pants.

Shiro tries not to stare too hard at his arms, the way they work as Lance does anything from push their chairs together to typing. Shiro thinks, if this continues, he’ll be in serious trouble. Funnily enough, Shiro really doesn’t think he’d mind. Being with Lance is good. Easy. Shiro’s had to spend so long being a pillar of strength and leadership. He’s had to keep going—further, harder, without taking a damn break or slowing down. It’s a way of thinking he’d had to adopt during his time as a Galra prisoner. 

But Lance makes things easier. Shiro finds the pressure in his chest and head ease when he’s around him, when he hears Lance’s windchime laughter and sees the sun in his smile. He drinks in the easy way Lance nudges him or pushes him lightly whenever Shiro wins a match (this time, it’s the space version of Super Smash Brothers, which Lance is shockingly good at, and which Shiro actually feels challenged at). He wants to hear more of the whoop! Lance lets out whenever he wins.

More than that, Shiro feels like just a regular guy when he’s with Lance. And they’ve been hanging out for less than two days. Shiro figures that it’s just the way Lance is. He has the type of personality that makes people feel at ease, whenever he’s not trying to show off. It’s when Shiro likes him best. He’s more genuine, and Shiro finds comfort in it. 

It’s dangerous, that voice says again. It’s dangerous to let himself want. But what Shiro wants, even he’s not sure. 

The next morning, he thinks he figures it out. It’s the third day of their break, and it occurs to Shiro that they haven’t really talked. They meet, as usual, in the kitchen. Lance pours the coffee, and Shiro makes them bowls of food goo.

“Man, I miss Earth food.”

Shiro chuckles. “Hopefully we’ll find a planet with better ingredients soon. Then Hunk can whip us up a feast.”

“We better! It won’t be the same, but would it be too much to ask for an Earth breakfast?” Lance grumbles, but there’s an edge of what Shiro thinks might be homesickness. The guilt that’s lessened for the past couple days settles hard and heavy in his chest again. Shiro sips at his coffee, and he’s at a complete loss for what to say. 

And Lance—damn him—picks up on it immediately. 

“Hey—Shiro?” Shiro looks at him. Lance runs a hand through his hair. “Is… I know we started this whole hangout thing because I said I wanted to get to know you. But we just ended up playing games.” He shrugs. “I guess what I wanna ask is… Do you want to talk about anything?”

Shiro wants to reply. Really, he does. But Lance is looking at him, expression equal parts hopeful and unsure, and Shiro finds that all the words are stopped up inside of him. Do you want to talk about anything? Lance had asked. Yes, Shiro wants to say. I want to talk about everything.

Instead, Shiro lets out a breath. “It’s not exactly the most fun stuff to talk about.”

Lance raises his eyebrows. “What, you think I can’t handle unfun stuff?”

Shiro sighs. “It’s not that. I just— don’t want to say anything that’ll… I don’t want to spring things on you if you’re not prepared. And you shouldn’t have to feel obligated—”

“Shiro.” Lance crosses over and stops in front of him. Shiro notices a few things. The way Lance’s hair sticks up in the back. The blue of his eyes. The way he’s looking at Shiro, with an expression Shiro can’t quite read. How bright his eyes are.

How soft his lips look.

Shiro swallows hard.

“Shiro,” Lance repeats. “Do you think I’m doing this ‘cause I feel like I have to?”

“I—” Shiro breaks off, and that’s all he knows he needs to say for Lance’s suspicions to be confirmed. 

Lance huffs. “I’m not spending time with you because I’m obligated or anything.” He waves his hand. “If I felt like that, I wouldn’t have bothered. Do you think I’d get up so early for just anyone? Seriously, you’re like—” Shiro swears he sees that blush on his cheeks, again, “—I don’t know. You’re one of the best people I know, you know? You’re… kind of my hero, and I’ve only felt like that more since we’ve become teammates and junk, but you’re also a human with flaws—no offense—and I kind of feel bad about idolizing you so much? Kind of put you on a pedestal for a while, and I don’t want to keep doing that, but I realize that I like you a lot and—”

Oh.

Lance steps back.

“Uh. Just. Just forget what I… said…” Lance trails off as Shiro steps to close the distance between them. He places his hands on Lance’s shoulders, and fits his lips against Lance’s.

They’re warm, and just as soft as Shiro expected. For a moment, Lance is frozen, but as Shiro kisses him, Lance relaxes. Opens up. Slides his arms around Shiro’s neck, and Shiro realizes that this is what he’s been missing. The touch of someone else, a body pressed to his. Shiro’s hands slide up to Lance’s cheeks, and he cradles his face gently. Shiro kisses Lance, and Lance kisses back, and Shiro is content with just this.

And then Lance moans and parts his lips to brush his tongue along the seam of Shiro’s lips, and his brain shortcircuits. Shiro shudders, and he pulls away, breaths coming out in short pants. Lance is breathing hard, and Shiro can feel every part of him.

“Lance,” he murmurs, and Lance looks up at him with blue eyes practically swallowed by his blown-out pupils. Shiro groans and hangs his head, forehead to forehead with Lance. 

“So,” Lance says, voice low and husky, “no video games today?”

Shiro laughs, and leans in to kiss him again.

**Author's Note:**

> What Shiro's referring to at the beginning is actually something cyclists developed! They found that their performances actually improved if they took a week off to rest after a particularly intense training period.
> 
> Title is from "Let Me Love" by ARCHIS, which is a great song and full of big Shance energy.


End file.
